


Cake

by neoguri



Series: ZiKyung [2]
Category: Block B
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drunk Sex, Established Relationship, Food, Food Play, Hickeys, Licking, M/M, Nom nom nom, Smoking, Soulmates, happy birthday jiho, kyung is wasted lmao, why is jiho always stressed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22207843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoguri/pseuds/neoguri
Summary: Kyung turns out the light in his room and closes the door. They’re sixteen again, young and stupid; and Jiho is Kyung’s dirty little secret, his best friend in front of everyone and his boyfriend behind closed doors, a secret so delicious that Kyung is bursting at the seams trying to keep it hidden. The difference is that now, Kyung keeps the lamp on. Now, he lets Jiho see the expressions he makes when he is too far gone to control them.
Relationships: Park Kyung/Woo Jiho | Zico
Series: ZiKyung [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257728
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Cake

**Author's Note:**

> more zikyung drivel because these two practically write the fics themselves

Kyung is one of the last to wish him a happy birthday.

It's late. Jiho has songs to finish, events to plan, people to respond to. He is unbelievably busy. But he drops everything when his phone rings with that tone, the one he's assigned specifically to Kyung so he knows which calls to pick up and which to ignore. He picks this one up within moments.

"Hey, honey," Kyung says. His voice is slurred, thick and sweet.

"Hey," Jiho says.

"Happy birthday," Kyung says in English. He hiccups loudly. "I'm drunk."

"Damn," Jiho says, and he shouldn't be giggling like a child but he is. "Was it that hard to call me?"

"Nah," Kyung says. "But you're on to something there."

Jiho can hear him gulping more alcohol in high definition.

"Mostly I knew," Kyung says, "that I'd be too embarrassed to ask this if I was totally sober. Now I'm totally not." He hiccups again. "Sober, I mean. I'm still embarrassed. So I'm stalling."

"I can tell," Jiho says, as normally as he can, though his heart has dropped into his stomach.

"You can tell," Kyung says.

His voice is low when he's drunk. He speaks from his chest, not his throat; and it makes his voice drop a good octave. It's syrupy and smooth but every now and then it scratches, and for a syllable or two Kyung is almost growling. These are the things that Jiho notices. The things that make his heart race.

There's a silence, in which Jiho can hear Kyung's breathing, shallow and fast.

"Fuck," Kyung says, finally, and it's almost a groan. Jiho thinks he can die happy just listening to that voice. "Guess I should just say it." He puffs out a long breath into the mic. "Come over, Jiho. I miss you. I just wanna see you, man, you look so good lately and I miss talking to you and hugging you. And… other shit." He clears his throat, roughly. "Yeah, come over. Spend the night."

"Yes," Jiho says, almost before Kyung finishes. "Yes. Of course."

"Settle down," Kyung snorts. "This ain't the lottery."

Jiho doesn't bother explaining that winning the lottery is nothing compared to even one night with Kyung - mostly because it sounds so melodramatic, and he's sure Kyung would never let him live it down. "Want me to bring anything?" he asks instead.

"Yeah, actually," Kyung says, behind a yawn. "Your best booze. And maybe one of those cakes." There's a wet noise as Kyung slurps from his bottle. "I bet that frosting tastes real nice when I lick it off your body."

Jiho shifts carefully in his chair. "That's, um."

"Too much?" Kyung asks. "Too bad. It's your birthday and you're gonna have cake eaten off your chest whether you like it or not." Jiho can almost see the way Kyung tips his head back when he laughs, the way the bottle of liquor swings from his fingers. "I'll try not to drink too much more until you get here.” And he hangs up, like the rude asshole he is, leaving Jiho clenching his fists with a blush creeping down his neck from his ears.

Jiho shows up to the building with a cake box under one arm and a bottle of wine in his other hand, and has to press the bell with his elbow. Kyung immediately buzzes him in. It's so late - or rather, early - that Jiho is alone, and the only sound is the click of his shoes against the shiny white tile, echoing to the high ceiling.

The door to Kyung's flat is cracked open. Jiho pushes into the entryway, a little clumsily. He's welcomed by Kyung's hands fumbling with his. Kyung wrestles the cake and the wine from his grip, moves off sets them down on the kitchen counter, and Jiho closes the door. It all takes so long, Jiho thinks: he's waited all this time for Kyung to touch him, and to be here and not have Kyung's hands on him is agony. He reaches for a hug when Kyung locks the door. But Kyung evades him.

"Patience, honey," he says with a giggle. Jiho can smell the vodka on his breath even from here. Kyung walks surprisingly steadily through the flat, leading Jiho past the dining table to his bedroom.

"Kyung," Jiho says, "you haven't even said hi to me."

"Patience," Kyung says again. He makes a slapping motion, narrowly missing Jiho's arm. "I got something to show you, yeah?"

"What could you possibly be showing me, before you even greet me?" Jiho grumbles. He's too sober for Kyung's shit right now.

"Shush." Kyung snatches Jiho's hand and drags him into his room. Jiho gets the feeling that it was tidy and carefully organized a few hours ago; but Kyung's clothes are kicked around and there's an empty wine glass and a half-full bottle on his bedside table. 

Kyung puts two hands on Jiho's back and shoves him toward the bed. "Sit,'' he says.

Jiho does, because when it comes to Kyung he doesn't really have a choice.

"Now wait here," Kyung says with a toothy grin. "I'll be right back." He hesitates, then ducks in and kisses Jiho, quickly and sloppily, his tongue flicking into Jiho's mouth, curling, tasting, before pulling back again. He licks his lips and then his grin splits his face in two. "God, it's good to see you."

And he's out of the room before Jiho blinks, and there's a spring in his step this time that isn't just the alcohol, a lightness that Jiho hasn't seen in months.

Jiho checks his reflection in the screen of his phone, fixes his hair. His ears are a little flushed. He presses the backs of his hands to his cheeks, trying to cool himself off. It's no use.

He stretches out across the bed and snatches the bottle of wine from the table. He lets his fingers sink into Kyung's sheets. Kyung's floral perfume puffs up in faint clouds when Jiho shifts on the bed, and for a moment he's lost in that scent, in all the memories it brings. Beneath the honeysuckle and jasmine, there’s a hint of strawberry, from his shampoo. Jiho curls a fist around the blankets and holds on tight. He can’t wait to bury his nose in Kyung’s hair, to finally breathe him in.

Jiho takes a swig from the bottle right as Kyung shuffles back in. For the first time Jiho notices what he’s wearing. An odd warmth seems to spill down through his torso. Kyung’s peach-colored robe hangs down to mid thigh, but it’s open over his chest, and Jiho can see the dip of his collarbone, the curve of his waist, the small fold in his tummy across his belly button when he twists and closes the door behind them. His boxers match the robe and they’re just a little shorter. The cloth swishes across his slender legs as he strides towards Jiho.

“Hey.” Kyung snaps his fingers in front of Jiho’s face. “Eyes up here.”

Jiho laughs, tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. “Sorry. You’re so…” He trails off when Kyung takes his chin in the palm of one hand and leans in till they’re nose-to-nose.

“Sexy, I know,” Kyung drawls; “put that out of your head, though, tonight is about you.” He strokes Jiho’s cheek with a thumb and lets go. He takes Jiho’s wrists instead, places a small box into his hands. “This is the first part of your present,” he says. His hands linger as he traces along the veins in Jiho’s wrists, drawing out a shudder.

“What is it?” Jiho asks, idiotically.

“Open it,” Kyung says.

The fluttering in Jiho’s chest bubbles up as laughter. Kyung grins back at him. He takes Jiho’s face and gives him another kiss, just a peck on his nose this time - still enough to make Jiho melt. Jiho can barely concentrate as he fumbles with the clasp on the box. Eventually Kyung slips the box from his grip and flicks the lid open for him before handing it back.

“Thanks,” Jiho says, and then he just stares.

Kyung moves to sit down on the bed beside him. His warm thigh presses against Jiho’s. “Do you like it?” he says.

“It’s so cute,” Jiho says. Maybe it’s his exhaustion, maybe it’s the recent stress making him so damn emotional, but he feels tears stinging at the corners of his eyes.

“There’s two,” Kyung breathes in his ear. “Look.”

His long fingers crawl over Jiho’s hand and curl around the chain of the necklace - and like he says, there’s not one but two, and when he lifts them up the little silver heart splits down the middle. When Kyung pushes the charms back together, they spell “soulmate.”

“Cheesy, I know,” Kyung says.

“You played our song,” Jiho says. His lips feel numb, he can’t speak properly.

“Yeah, I did,” Kyung says, and glances sidelong at him. Jiho can’t meet his eyes. “Is that… okay?”

Jiho doesn’t trust his voice. He reaches for the necklace. Kyung doesn’t need to be told; he leans forward, winds the chain around Jiho’s neck and fastens it in the back, slowly, his cold hands sending goosebumps down Jiho’s spine. And then Kyung pulls away, tosses his hair just slightly as he puts the other one on himself.

“Come here,” Kyung says. He snakes an arm around Jiho’s waist, pulls him close. He raises his phone with a crook of his wrist and rests his head on Jiho’s shoulder for the picture. “Smile,” he says. Jiho doesn’t know how Kyung can expect him not to.

Kyung tosses his phone into one of the piles of crumpled clothes and kisses Jiho’s cheek, his ear, before twisting to face him and latching lips to his neck. Suddenly the room is hot. Jiho stirs on the sheets, but stops when Kyung places one hand firmly on his thigh, holding him still. Kyung kisses up his neck, excruciatingly slow, the heat and moisture of his breath collecting on Jiho’s skin. He mouths at Jiho’s ear and then down along his jaw, leaning into him. Jiho turns his head. He catches Kyung’s lips with his own.

Kyung growls, low in his throat, and the sound hums through his lips and into Jiho’s mouth. Jiho’s stomach drops.

He pushes into the kiss, but Kyung pulls away, digging nails into his thigh. “Hold on,” Kyung says.

“Hold on?” Jiho says. “For what?”

Kyung rolls his eyes, nonchalant despite the redness of his cheeks.

“You’re so dumb,” he says. “Cake, remember? And finish that,” he adds, gesturing to the bottle of wine that Jiho set on the floor earlier. “Want you good and tipsy by the time we really get going.” He winks, and stumbles to his feet.

Jiho already feels plenty dazed just from kissing him. But he doesn’t say that. Maybe the wine will help him ignore the anticipation that buzzes sickeningly in his stomach. It’s been forever since he and Kyung have done anything like this. Jiho isn’t even sure he’ll be able to enjoy himself, because every time he stops to think, his worry creeps back in. As much as he adores Kyung, needs him, every hour he spends here is another hour not tackling his songs or his paperwork.

He’s distracted by Kyung’s yelp from the kitchen, “Ow. Shit.”

Jiho gets up on wobbly legs and treks over to him. Even the clear hallways are getting hard for him to navigate. Kyung is standing in the middle of the bleached kitchen light, a small skinny figure with a knife in one hand and white frosting on his fingers, his other hand held out stiffly in front of him. Jiho wrests the knife from Kyung’s hand and sets it on the counter, takes the other hand to examine it.

“Didn’t mean to,” Kyung giggles. “My depth perception is off.” He stumbles a little over the words, slurs everything together. Jiho glares at him.

“You’re fucking wasted,” he says.

“I know,” Kyung says, shaking with poorly suppressed laughter.

“There’s nothing here. You didn’t even nick yourself.”

“Fuck, really?” Kyung squints at his hand, sways in place.

“You’re so fucked up.”

They’re both laughing now, and Kyung is practically laying on him where they stand. Jiho sweeps Kyung into a tight hug, cradling him against his chest, and he feels Kyung’s laughter shake his whole body.

Kyung’s fingers find their way to Jiho’s mouth.

Jiho licks them clean, that’s what a good boyfriend does.

And Kyung’s hysteria turns to an odd trembly moan, and that sparks something in Jiho, and the wave of lust is like a punch to the gut. His eyes flutter open and he stares down at Kyung, at those big round eyes and his parted lips and the hair curling around his ears and the robe that’s slipping off one perfect porcelain shoulder, the creamy pale skin that’s perfect for marking up purple and red.

“Shit,” Kyung says, delighted.

Jiho slips his hands over Kyung's cheeks, into his hair. Their lips melt together, soft, warm, wet. Kyung's breath is sugary. Jiho caresses down the back of his neck. He fingers at the curve of his shoulder, he slips Kyung's robe little further down his arm and holds on. Kyung curls toward him. Deft fingers slip up under his pullover. Kyung laps at Jiho's mouth with his tongue and tugs him in by his waist; Jiho rolls his hips against Kyung's, playful. Give and take.

Kyung's cold hands press to Jiho's belly, slip around to his sides and up under his arms, bunching Jiho's pullover at his chest. Jiho lifts his arms, and Kyung stands on tiptoe to tug it off. Jiho's t-shirt goes with it; he shivers. Kyung giggles as he pulls Jiho close. It always shocks him, how Kyung can be so dirty and so innocent all at once. Because even as they cling to each other, the way they've held each other since grade school, Kyung's mouth closes around Jiho's bottom lip. He sucks at it like it's his first time. He moans, like Jiho is the best thing he's ever tasted. And Jiho moans too; Kyung knows exactly what to do with his teeth and his tongue to light up every nerve in his body.

Jiho digs his nails into Kyung's shoulder and resurfaces, gasping. Kyung grins at him, eyes lidded heavy.

"I could do that all day," he hums in Jiho's ear.

Jiho buries his face in Kyung's neck. "Shut up."

"It's true." Kyung's hand sneaks up his chest, into his hair, and he tugs Jiho back up to look at him. Jiho groans. Kyung nuzzles their noses together. "I could play with your mouth for hours," he says. "Kissing it, fingering it, fucking it. So many wonderful options."

"Shut up," Jiho whines. "You're being dumb."

Kyung laughs. "Watch it. Just because it's your birthday doesn't mean I won't fuck you up." As proof, he sinks his teeth into Jiho's neck.

"Shit, man!" Jiho gasps, shoves at Kyung's chest. "I have places to be tomorrow."

"You'll be able to cover it up," Kyung says. He kisses the spot, begins to lick at it slowly. But Jiho pushes him away. He takes a small, stiff step back as every muscle in his body clenches.

"You know it's not that easy," he snaps.

He can see the whites of Kyung’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Kyung says. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Neither of them speaks as Kyung rummages in the freezer and retrieves an ice cube. He presses it to the spot on Jiho’s neck, and Jiho feels it melt, trickling cold down his skin.

“I didn’t mean to raise my voice,” Jiho says.

“It’s okay.” Kyung smiles, a bit forced. “I won’t do it again.”

“Just not there,” Jiho says. “It’s fine, other places.” He tosses the ice into the sink, dries his hands on his pants. “Come here. I’m sorry.”

Kyung hesitates before winding his arms around Jiho's middle and embracing him once more. Jiho buries his nose in Kyung's hair and breathes deep.

"What do you need me to do?" Kyung finally asks. His voice is muffled against Jiho's neck.

"I don't know," Jiho says.

Kyung squeezes his waist. He pets Jiho's back with his fingertips. "I'll just hold you, baby." 

"Yeah," Jiho says, "hold me." Relief crashes over him in a wave.

"It's mostly gone," Kyung says, and brushes another kiss against Jiho's neck. "Maybe you can wear that cute turtleneck, just in case."

"Good idea," Jiho murmurs.

"I don't think they've figured out," Kyung says, "that turtleneck means love bites. So we're safe for now." 

Jiho kisses the top of Kyung's head. "I love you."

"Mm." Kyung nibbles at Jiho's collarbone. "How about you love me in bed?"

"Or on the table," Jiho says.

"Someone's feeling frisky."

"In the bath is fine with me, too."

"We'll save that for later," Kyung says. He begins to move down his chest, speaking in between kisses. "I can't wait to have you splayed out in front of me." His lips brush Jiho's nipple, his tongue flicks against it, teasing out a shiver. "Can't wait to push deep inside you." His mouth crosses Jiho's chest. He takes his other nipple between his teeth and tugs, sharply. "Stretch you out nice and wide." He nuzzles up the center of Jiho's chest, back up to his neck. Kyung's lips part, and his hot tongue presses against Jiho's skin. He licks a wide, wet stripe up to his chin, slow enough to make Jiho whimper and cling to the front of Kyung's robe.

"Fuck," Jiho whispers. "Please."

"Guessing you need to still walk tomorrow," Kyung says.

Jiho hides his face in Kyung's hair. "I wish I didn't."

"Me too, honey." Kyung kisses his cheek and strokes the back of his neck with one hand. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you don't forget it anyway."

Jiho nods.

Kyung gives him another soft peck. "You're my good boy, Jiho."

He cuts a large slice of cake and hands it in a bowl to Jiho. Jiho cradles the bowl in his palms, stares down at the messy frosting, at the smudged corner of 'birthday' in red. Kyung pours up shots of something and Jiho throws his back without a thought. Kyung pours him another; he downs that, too.

"I gotta get a smoke," Kyung said. "Wait at the table. Leave your pants anywhere." He cups Jiho's face and looks into his eyes for a moment, frowning. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jiho says.

Kyung folds him up in another quick hug. "Let's make you feel good." He grabs Jiho's hand. "Come with me, I only need a quick one anyway."

Kyung drags him out, half naked, out of the warm stuffy apartment and onto the balcony. The cold air hits Jiho all at once, takes his breath away. He almost staggers. Kyung moves to take his hand, but at the last minute he rests his palm on the small of Jiho's back instead, comforting and steady. Jiho shudders, up from where Kyung touches him, to the top of his head, and then down again, through his whole body.

Kyung's tiny laugh is lost in the breeze. He guides Jiho into his side and hugs him close. Kyung's robe still hangs half-off one shoulder, and Jiho wonders how he can look so perfect, so angelic, even when he's lost in a haze of smoke.

Jiho leans to kiss him. Kyung twists away, puffs out a long breath, but the breeze turns and carries it back toward them. He laughs again. Jiho's not paying attention to the things he says; he only leans in further, presses his lips to Kyung's cheekbone. Hands wander down sides, to hips, into pants and back pockets. Kyung holds his cigarette out to one side in delicate fingers. Jiho waits till he's taken another drag from it and then kisses him on the lips, drinking the smoke from his mouth.

"Aren't you cold?" Kyung murmurs. His lips seem to hum as Jiho traces them with a finger.

"Not really," Jiho says.

"Mm… you're shivering." Kyung nuzzles into him. "Back inside, come on."

He puts out his cigarette in the ashtray, and even that he does with measured delicacy, holding it between two bowed fingers with his pinky sticking up, like he's tipping a teacup.

His hand stays in Jiho's back pocket and he leads him, with little pushes and squeezes at the curve of his butt, to the table, where they left the cake.

Jiho drinks straight from the bottle of vodka, Kyung giggles and tells him to slow down.

It's funny, thinking of slowing down, when Kyung's hands are already at Jiho's belt. Everything moves so fast. He can feel the earth spinning on its axis beneath him, zapping the room with the energy of motion. Jiho bumps up against the table. His hip will bruise. But he doesn't feel it.

"Careful, honey," Kyung purrs in his ear.

Jiho keeps one hand in the back of Kyung's underwear, cupping his butt, and his other hand on Kyung's shoulder. They could dance this way, if Kyung was sober enough to dance.

"Good," Kyung murmurs. "Stay relaxed. Just like that."

Jiho's belt slips to the floor.

Jiho swigs from the vodka again, and it's like fire as it goes down his throat.

"I'm gonna take good care of you," Kyung says. He unzips Jiho's pants, pulls them down to his thighs. Jiho grips Kyung's ass a little harder. "You gonna feel so good." He tugs at Jiho's boxers, they puddle around his ankles with his jeans.

"You're so bad at talking dirty," Jiho says, because sex with Kyung is traditionally paired with mockery.

Kyung hums, begins to kiss down Jiho's belly. "I'm feeling sentimental." He nibbles at Jiho's hip. "Sit down, love."

Jiho sinks into the chair, and Kyung slips gracefully to his knees in front of him.

"Your hair's grown out so long," Jiho mumbles.

"I know how much you like pulling it."

Jiho slides his hand into Kyung's hair and curls his fingers around his locks, holding on. "Touching it, maybe."

"Yeah, we both know what that means."

Kyung spreads Jiho's thighs with a hand. He dips in and kisses the inside of Jiho's thigh, halfway up. Jiho groans.

"Didn't have a chance to shave," he says.

"That's fine," Kyung says. "You've been straying from the twink look. It's natural."

"Fuck off," Jiho says.

Kyung bites his other thigh, sucks on it softly, and Jiho grips his hair in a tight fist.

"Make sure it won't show," he says.

"Don't fuss," Kyung says. "Who else is gonna be looking at your thighs, anyway?"

"No one," Jiho says.

"Exactly." Kyung spends a moment nibbling at Jiho's skin, till he's squirming in his seat. "If you're not gonna trust me I'll let you jerk yourself off."

"I do," Jiho says hurriedly.

"Good. I want you to have fun."

With a crook of his wrist, he takes Jiho's cock, holds it carefully in his left hand. Jiho feels the pads of his fingers just barely grazing his skin. It makes him dizzy. But he keeps still; any movement and Kyung will stop, or worse, will tease him longer.

Kyung tucks his hair behind his ear with his other hand, and looks up at Jiho with dark glittering eyes. "You're barely hard."

"Sorry," Jiho says.

Kyung laughs. "Don't be. Relax." He kisses Jiho's thigh, tilts his head, and with the slightest pressure from his fingers, pushes Jiho's cock toward his mouth. Kyung's lips press against his shaft, crawl up slowly, to his tip. Jiho grips the edge of the table in one hand.

"You're so tense," Kyung says. He swipes the hair out of his eyes with his free hand and looks back up at Jiho, mouth just brushing Jiho's tip. "It's okay, baby. I got you." He parts his lips, swirls his tongue over Jiho's skin. Their eyes meet.

Jiho's hand slips from the table, back into Kyung's hair. "Are you sure you want…" He doesn't know what he's going to say.

"Of course." Kyung leaves wet little kisses all over, and Jiho grows harder by the second, his cock curving up into Kyung's hand. "I wouldn't be down here if I didn't absolutely crave you." His tongue laps up along Jiho's skin. Jiho is cold and hot at the same time.

"Crave," he says. "That's… that's an intense word."

"You're an intense person," Kyung says. He sits back a little on his heels. "Does it scare you?"

"God, no," Jiho breathes. "No. It turns me on."

Kyung grins toothily. "That's the point." He closes his eyes, and his lashes catch against his cheeks as he dips in once more.

His mouth is silky-soft. Jiho strokes Kyung's cheek as he goes down. He takes his time to pull back, sloppily, to mouth at the tip, to kiss Jiho's thighs again, all in a slow, bobbing rhythm. He takes Jiho by the hips. He pulls him closer, spreads his legs out just a little more. Jiho slumps back against the chair.

"Haven't had time in weeks," Jiho mumbles, almost to himself.

Kyung tips his chin to kiss the vein on the side of Jiho's cock. "I can tell." His fingers spider down and he drags a thumb over Jiho's balls, before rolling them in the palm of his hand, slowly. "You're so full."

Jiho moans from his throat. "Kyungie."

"Yeah?" Kyung blinks slowly as he looks up, and Jiho can't help but watch the way Kyung's soft, pink little lips part just slightly, the way his tongue flicks out between them, across them, licking Jiho's taste from his mouth.

"I." Jiho pets Kyung's head and clears his throat, a stalling tactic. "I love you."

He's expecting Kyung to say something dismissive. "I know," or "you idiot" are two of his favorites. But Kyung is drunk and swaying where he kneels and his breath warms Jiho's skin, and they're both sentimental tonight.

"I love you too, honey," Kyung says with a smile.

The dining room light is so bright it makes Jiho's eyes glaze over.

Kyung moves in again, his hand following his mouth as he bobs slowly up and down. He caresses Jiho's thigh with his free hand. His motions are lazy, heavy, but his tongue strokes the vein along the underside of Jiho's cock with an expertise that turns every muscle in his body to jelly. 

And Jiho is letting go in phases. He's only halfway relaxed, really, but that's less tense than he's been all month. As their bodies press closer together, Jiho feels himself slipping into a liquid calm that pools around his shoulders, relaxing his neck and back, pulling him in.

Kyung moves both hands to Jiho's hips. His hair brushes Jiho's tummy as he takes Jiho deeper into his mouth, pushing down, until Jiho is completely buried in his face. He stays there. Drool trickles from his lips and down Jiho's skin. Kyung's mouth pulses. Hot. Wet. 

Jiho brushes Kyung's hair from his face, so he can see the way his cheeks have gone red, the way his eyes are just barely open.

"You're so pretty," he says.

Kyung hums in his throat. He begins to pull off. Jiho trembles as Kyung's lips drag along his skin, catch on his veins. Kyung's palm twists along his shaft as he goes, until finally he pops off again with a slurp and returns to petting and stroking with his hands. He tucks his hair back with a thumb, gingerly, his hands visibly slick with spit and sweat.

"That's the problem," he says. His voice is lower, rougher, and he's almost gasping between words, "that's the problem with my hair, being this length. Can't keep it out of my eyes." He grins up at Jiho, and his lips are swollen, cherry-red. "Feeling good yet, baby?"

Jiho only nods.

"Wonderful."

Kyung's wrists flick. Pleasure jolts up Jiho's body. He curls forward, hair falling over his face; his hands move from the back of Kyung's head, down his neck, to his shoulders. Kyung glances up at him. Their eyes meet, and Kyung sits up taller on his knees and pecks Jiho on the mouth.

He pumps at Jiho's cock, long slow squeezes as he drags his hand up and down his shaft. Jiho groans. He hides his face in his hands, and Kyung giggles, leans in to press the smallest kiss to his tip. 

Jiho squirms and whispers, "Please." 

"Hm?" Kyung starts to lick at his tip again. His tongue flicks over the slit, curls around the head, and Jiho twitches in his seat. 

"Please," he says, struggling for words, "I can't take it anymore."

Kyung's fingers glide over Jiho's cock, caressing his hot flushed skin. "Mm. You're not ready yet."

"I am." Jiho hates sounding so pathetic, but he can't help it. Kyung always does this. "Please," he says again. "Just - even a little bit--"

Kyung sucks off the drop of precum that's begun to trickle free. He nibbles at the skin along Jiho's shaft; Jiho almost sobs with desperation.

"Fucking please," he says. 

Kyung hums in thought. "But you're not fully letting go, baby, and how am I supposed to please you if you're still so tense?"

This time Jiho does sob, a small, weak noise as he grips Kyung's shoulders. "Jesus. I'm trying."

"Shh," Kyung says. "Let me take care of you. Do you trust me?"

"Yeah," Jiho says. His body trembles, his chest and stomach flutter. Kyung keeps touching him, slow and careful. Far too slow.

"Then you know that I always make you feel good in the end."

"Yeah," Jiho says again. 

"I've got you," Kyung says softly. "You don't have to be afraid."

Jiho nods and scrubs at his face with the heel of his hand. "I'm sorry," he says. 

"Don't be." 

"I’m." He stops. Says it in a rush, “I’m really fucking stressed, Kyungie, things are hard.”

"I know." Kyung sits up straight for another kiss, and this time he lets it draw out, lets his tongue play with Jiho's for a long moment before pulling away. "But you're strong." He kisses Jiho's belly, Jiho's hip, the fold between his hip and thigh right beside where his hand still wraps around Jiho's cock. "You'll make it." More licks, up his rigid flesh. "I believe in you, Jiho."

And finally, Jiho thinks he begins to remember how to leave urgency behind.

Kyung's hands are all over as he helps him stand up. "We'll take this to the bed. More comfy." He pauses to kiss Jiho's neck, to adjust his arm around Jiho's naked waist. Jiho shakes so much he can barely stand.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Kyung says. 

"What," Jiho says into his hair. 

"How we fit together," Kyung says. "Like puzzle pieces.”

“Yeah,” Jiho says. He struggles for words before giving up and kissing Kyung’s forehead instead: and that says more than any words ever could.

Kyung turns out the light in his room, closes the door. They’re sixteen again, young and stupid; and Jiho is Kyung’s dirty little secret, his best friend in front of everyone and his boyfriend behind closed doors, a secret so delicious that Kyung is bursting at the seams trying to keep it hidden. The difference is that now, Kyung keeps the lamp on. Now, he lets Jiho see the expressions he makes when he is too far gone to control them.

Jiho watches the warm lamplight wash over Kyung’s skin as he unties the silk sash of his robe and shrugs it off his shoulders. It slips to the ground around his feet with a soft hush. Kyung hooks his thumbs in the band of his underwear, tugs them off. They fall down his slender thighs and he steps out of them. He’s wearing only his half of the necklace now.

Jiho swings his legs off the bed and reaches out. He takes Kyung's wrist and pulls him close, till he stands between Jiho's thighs. Jiho looks up: his heart races when he sees the glint in Kyung's eyes.

Kyung puts hands on Jiho's shoulders and kisses his forehead. "How you feeling?”

For a moment, Jiho considers trying to tell him that everything’s perfectly okay. But Kyung wouldn’t believe that. So he says, “Better.” And he finds it’s true.

Kyung takes Jiho's chin in his hand, kisses his cheeks. “Relax your jaw,” he says.

Jiho closes his eyes. Kyung’s thumbs press small circles into the muscles of his jaw, moving up to his cheekbone, then back down, teasing the tension from his face. Jiho’s lips part and Kyung tips his chin up with his forefinger. Their mouths brush together. Kyung pulls back, grinning widely.

“Much better,” he says. The admiration in his voice makes Jiho’s chest ache.

He pulls Kyung close and hugs him. Kyung pets his hair and cradles Jiho's face to his chest, and they are still for a long moment, naked bodies tangled together as one.

Jiho’s lips press to Kyung's chest. He says, "Kyung, wanna suck you off."

There's a smirk in Kyung's voice. "Now how am I supposed to resist that?" He puts a hand on Jiho's shoulder and holds him still. "I'm gonna lie back. It's a bit hard to stand."

Jiho gets it. He's barely drunk and he can hardly sit straight. He sways aside and lets Kyung prop himself up against the pillows. Kyung stretches one leg out, dangling the other off the side of the bed, and Jiho doesn't think twice before falling forward and hugging him again, pressing his cheek to Kyung's belly. 

Kyung's startled laugh shakes their bodies as one. "Baby! You're so cuddly."

"Yeah," Jiho mumbles. "Needed this."

"I needed you," Kyung says. 

"You always have to show me up," Jiho says.

"Hush or I'll bop you." He flicks lazily at Jiho's cheek.

Jiho squirms down and wraps his hand around Kyung's cock once more. This time, Kyung's gasp is unrestrained.

"Your hands are so big," he says. And then, as more of a sigh, "so warm." 

Jiho lets his lower lip drag over the head. "Love you." 

"Mmm." Kyung pushes his fingers through Jiho's hair and grabs on. "All the way down." 

Jiho does as he's told. He’ll go slow. It’s more dirty when it’s slow, and more intimate, when he can blink up at Kyung as he sucks. When the pad of Kyung’s thumb brushes over his forehead, smooths out the wrinkles between his eyebrows. Kyung sits up just enough to cup Jiho’s chin in his hand and says, “You make me feel so good."

Jiho moans and shuts his eyes for a moment. All he really wants is for Kyung to feel good. And he must be. He’s letting out sweet little moans: sounds that get more husky with every wet slurp, every pop of Jiho's lips as he pulls off just to kiss up and down Kyung's shaft. Kyung's eyelids droop. His mouth spreads into a grin. Seeing his lips curl has Jiho sucking harder, bobbing his head faster, trying to earn praise in the form of that pervy smile.

“Enough,” Kyung finally says.

Jiho looks up with his mouth still full. Kyung’s hair is dark with sweat, sticking to his forehead and his cheeks.

“Come here,” Kyung says. He guides Jiho off his cock and lifts him under the arms. Jiho slumps against his chest and for a moment, they just lie there, chests heaving in tandem, limbs tangled, skin sticky and hot. Jiho hooks one ankle around Kyung’s and pushes his hips forward in a slow, circular motion, and Kyung growls in his throat.

“You sound stupid when you do that,” Jiho whispers.

Kyung crawls a hand up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, and then yanks on his hair. Jiho’s forced to look up at him. He catches only a glimpse of Kyung’s flushed face, his eyes blown wide and black, before Kyung presses his palms to Jiho’s cheeks and they’re kissing again, rougher than before. Kyung is all tongue and teeth, messy, desperate. Heat trickles down Jiho’s body in waves and pools low in his gut.

They both lose it at the same time, when Kyung flicks his tongue against the roof of Jiho's mouth, and Jiho bites him in surprise. Their hips jerk together; Kyung growls again. It's not funny to Jiho now. He can only groan as Kyung snatches his waist and curls forward to latch onto his neck. Jiho's thighs squeeze around his hips. Kyung kisses down his neck, around his Adam's apple, across his shoulder. He bites down into Jiho's collarbone. Even before he pulls free, Jiho can tell from how hard he sucks that it'll be the darkest hickey yet.

"You're fucking evil," Jiho says into his hair. 

"I am not a chew toy," Kyung says. 

"You're doing worse to me."

Kyung shoves at Jiho's chest, and because he's not expecting it, he collapses on his back with a thump. Kyung straddles him with a triumphant grin. The lamplight glitters in his eyes. His fingers follow the taper of Jiho's waist, then push back up over his stomach, over his chest. Kyung plants his hands on either side of Jiho's head and leans back in. "My toy. Not the other way around."

Jiho sits up just enough to peck Kyung's nose. "Show me." He manages, albeit clumsily, to pull his legs from between Kyung's, to lift them and wrap them around Kyung's waist instead. Jiho almost forgot the minutes he'd spent, prepping himself before he came over - but now, in this position, it's hard to put out of his mind.

"Oh, baby." Kyung lets out an indulgent purr, voice heavy with desire. "This is just lovely." He sits up, rubbing himself between Jiho's legs, pulls him closer. Jiho hides his face in his hands as Kyung begins to pet one thigh.

"Kinda miss when you kept your legs waxed," Kyung says. "Your thighs are still smooth though." He tugs at Jiho’s wrists. “Show me your face.”

“You’ve seen it before,” Jiho says behind his fingers.

“And you think that was enough for me?”

Kyung is laughing as he guides Jiho’s hands to his chest. He leans forward, and Jiho thinks groggily about how hot it is to feel Kyung push back his thighs like this, casually, folding him in half and making him small for something so innocent as a kiss on the cheek.

Of course, it doesn’t stop at his cheek. Soon Kyung is kissing all over his face, along his jaw, down his neck, nibbling at his earlobes. He tips Jiho’s chin to one side with a hand and presses velvety lips to the sensitive place behind Jiho’s ear, just below his hairline. And that, more than anything, is what makes Jiho moan, a shiver trickling down through his body. Kyung chuckles in his ear.

“You’re leaking all over your tummy,” he says.

Jiho squeezes his eyes shut.

“Messy baby.” Kyung sits up a bit. “I’ll have to clean that up… eventually.” He twists round between Jiho’s legs, reaches over to the nightstand. Jiho pulls his hands back and covers his face again, peeking out between his fingers as Kyung scrabbles for the bowl of cake. Kyung almost drops it, but manages to catch it just before it slips from the table.

“Come on,” Jiho groans. “I thought you were just joking about that.”

“You’ll love it,” Kyung says.

“You’re gonna have to wash me off real good,” Jiho says.

“I always do.”

Kyung is grinning even more toothily than usual as he dips two fingers into the bowl. Jiho groans louder.

“Stop looking so obscene,” he says. “It’s just cake. You don’t have to fucking -” he gags exaggeratedly - “you don’t have to finger it.”

“Jiho,” Kyung says, “shut up, please.” He swirls his fingers in one slow circular motion around the rim of the bowl, then pulls them out. Jiho catches one glimpse of the mound of white frosting before Kyung leans in and kisses him on the lips.

Jiho yelps into Kyung’s mouth as the cold frosting touches his chest. Kyung ignores him, smearing it in curve down his skin, around his nipple. Jiho isn’t sure how he feels about this, isn’t sure how he should feel. And Kyung is making a spectacle of it. He draws swirly designs over Jiho's torso, and Jiho gets colder and more trembly by the moment. Just as he's about to say something to hurry Kyung along, Kyung sits back up and returns the bowl to the bedside table.

"Look at you," he says. "How tasty."

He presses his fingers to Jiho's lips. Jiho sucks them obediently into his mouth - this part he's used to - and licks them clean again.

"What a well-behaved birthday boy," Kyung says.

Jiho spits out his fingers. "Shut it."

Kyung smiles brightly and flicks Jiho's cheekbone. "I'm being really nice, letting you get away with that," he says. He pushes Jiho up on the bed and bends down between his legs. Jiho feels the hair tickling his belly first. Then Kyung's mouth presses to his abdomen.

Jiho has a hard time holding still as Kyung licks, agonizingly slow, around his belly button, up the center of his torso, with one long wet drag of his tongue. Jiho keeps his face covered with one hand, gripping Kyung's arm with the other.

"Love your mouth," Jiho murmurs. And then, almost reluctantly, "Feels good." 

Kyung laps at his chest and looks up into his face. Jiho peeks between his fingers at him, a bright blush trickling down his body from the top of his head.

"You're so cute," Kyung says. "My tasty Jiho." 

"Shut up," Jiho says again. 

"Will do." He dips back in. Jiho lets out a noise shamefully close to a whimper as Kyung mouths the frosting off his nipple. Kyung hums in satisfaction and wiggles around between Jiho's thighs, cupping Jiho's waist in one hand.

Kyung begins to tease Jiho with his teeth, more intently this time, focused and precise. Jiho's head tips back against the plush pillows. Every touch jolts straight down his body, pooling in his gut. He's light-headed with desperation. When Kyung licks over to the other side of his chest, Jiho grabs his shoulders and hangs on, feeling as if everything is spinning again.

He's trembling and over-sensitive by the time Kyung kisses the lingering crumbs of cake from his ribs.

"Did you enjoy that?" Kyung asks. 

And Jiho can't answer, he's too busy holding back the orgasm that threatens to pulse through every nerve in his body, the pleasure wound into such a tight knot that it seems to press against his skin from the inside.

Kyung knows that a few more touches - anywhere, with anything - can send Jiho over the edge. He knows, and because he's a little fucking devil, he sits back, leaves Jiho breathing heavy, sweating like he's just run in the sweltering heat. As much as Jiho's cock throbs, he doesn't reach down to help himself. He wants Kyung to be the one to do that.

The bed creaks. Kyung slips off, onto the floor. "I think you're ready now," he says. Jiho wants to sob his thanks, but he can barely breathe. 

Kyung tugs open the nightstand drawer and reaches inside. He retrieves a small bottle of lube. "This is about you letting go," Kyung says. He coats his fingers with the slippery lube, until his skin is shiny. "Tonight, I want you to relax, to be calm. To lay still and let me make you feel good. I won't try anything too new."

He climbs back on the bed. He takes Jiho's thigh and pushes it back and out to one side, so they can look at each other between the vee of his legs. Kyung smiles at him, and it's not that toothy, pervy smile that he sometimes wears during rougher sex, when he pounds Jiho into the floor. It's soft, comforting, all in the lips and eyes. And he has a white splotch of frosting on the tip of his nose. 

"You think you'll be able to enjoy this?" he asks. 

Jiho can't say "yes" fast enough. 

He starts with one finger at first. Again it reminds Jiho of their first time, right down to the way Kyung uses too much lube, so that for a moment everything feels cold and wet and squelchy. Jiho closes his eyes and ignores the moment of discomfort as Kyung's fingertip presses in. Despite his stretching, he's still tight. 

Kyung doesn't joke about that, though. Not this time. And Jiho is thankful for that. He likes the quiet; he likes being able to hear the sound of Kyung's finger swirling inside of him, the little happy noises Kyung makes when he slips inside Jiho up to the knuckle, when he curls his finger and Jiho's whole body twitches before he can control it.

More lube. Kyung adds a second finger, and again, a moment of discomfort before the hazy pleasure of sliding and slipping and moving, pushing, in and out, slow and steady. Kyung leans in, and kisses Jiho's thighs until he moans. The sound is filthy.

"You're doing great," Kyung murmurs against his thigh. "Ready for another?"

Jiho nods. 

He shifts on the bed, and lifts both legs, and the third finger pushes in quicker and easier and it's just enough that Jiho remembers how it feels to be pleasantly full. Kyung holds his hip and finger-fucks him slowly, twisting and curling and pressing deep inside him, against the spot that makes Jiho's vision go dark around the edges.

Kyung plants one hand beside Jiho's head. He guides himself against Jiho's hole. There's resistance at first. Jiho bites his lip to hold back a whimper because he's not a virgin by any means, it shouldn't hurt like this.

Kyung strokes a few fingers down Jiho's thighs, to the crux of his legs, over his cock as it rests against his abdomen. "You're okay," he murmurs. "You're doing so well." He plants a hand in the sheets beside Jiho's hip and leans in to kiss the middle of his chest.

Jiho takes him quickly and suddenly, with a throaty moan as Kyung sinks in halfway. Kyung puffs out a laugh, his breath cut short. 

"God, you feel so good," he says. 

Jiho reaches out, scrambles for anything to hold on to, finds the crook of Kyung's neck and shoulder and digs his fingers in. His legs are already trembling. 

Kyung has always been the louder of them both, but tonight he's so quiet, Jiho can barely hear his sighs between each thrust. Contented, happy sighs. Only sometimes do they turn louder, rougher, melting into groans when he pushes in so deep that Jiho's thighs jerk.

There's a music to this. The slow, rhythmic creaking of the bed frame, the sticking of skin on skin. Their ragged breaths, mingling and forming the melody. Kyung's little praises - "doing so good baby," "so tight," "you're so perfect, Jiho" - and God, the way Kyung says his name… it draws out a long moan from deep in his chest, a velvety, indulgent thing, laced with as much emotional pleasure as physical. They are both moaning now, getting off on each other's delight. 

Once, with a particularly hard thrust, Jiho clenches tight. Kyung growls something dirty. Now Jiho can feel every vein along his cock, can feel every pulse and twitch with a sudden agonizing intensity. He almost loses his mind when Kyung bites his collarbone. The bed rocks faster beneath them. Kyung's moans are lower. His hands push Jiho's thighs open and back against the sheets. Kyung is fucking him rough, messy, desperate, and Jiho's voice breaks, going high and trembly as he says Kyung's name over and over.

"Cum for me," Kyung says, bites Jiho's lip, gasps against his mouth. Sweat drips from his nose onto Jiho's cheek. "Cum, baby, wanna feel you - oh fuck." He grabs Jiho by the hips. Jiho's head smacks against the wall with his next thrust. "Come on, gorgeous."

Colors swirl together and melt to white. Tension builds, his whole body fills with it, builds and spills over. Jiho's back arches. Kyung twitches deep inside him and Jiho digs nails into his arms as he feels Kyung paint his insides hot and wet.

They both go still, panting.

Kyung leans in, kisses Jiho's open mouth as he rolls his hips in a tight little circle, and Jiho whimpers into his mouth, overstimulated.

Kyung reaches down with one hand as they kiss. He squeezes Jiho's cock between thumb and forefinger, slowly, up from the base. Jiho's body twitches, jerks. Tears prick his eyes as Kyung milks out the last few drops of cum onto his belly.

"Good boy," Kyung murmurs in his ear. "You did so well."

He kisses Jiho's nose and pulls out cautiously, before flopping down across Jiho's chest. Jiho squirms. He can feel the cum dribbling out of him onto the crumpled sheets. It's an odd, tickly feeling, one that makes his hair stand on end.

"I'm so proud of you," Kyung says. He slides one hand into Jiho's hair and kisses his cheekbone.

Jiho wraps his arms around Kyung's waist and holds on tight.

This time, Kyung is the first to get up. He stumbles off on bony legs and comes back with a soft white towel - it looks golden in the lamplight. He wipes off Jiho's belly, his thighs, his chest, and gently pats along his cock. He cleans himself, a little less thoroughly. And finally the sheets - though they're already stained.

He bustles out again to throw the towel in the laundry. When he comes back, it's with ice, for Jiho's head where he smacked it into the wall, and for the hickeys all down his body.

"You're so rough," Jiho mumbles.

"You like it?" 

"I love it." 

Jiho rests his head against Kyung's chest as Kyung presses the ice pack to his skin, shifting it to a new spot every few minutes.

"Guess I got carried away," Kyung says with a little laugh. "You felt so damn good."

Jiho tips his chin up and kisses him. Kyung lets the ice pack slip from his fingers to the bed as he tucks his hands under Jiho's butt and pulls him closer. Jiho makes out with him, lazily, wetly, and little breathy moans mingle between their mouths.

When they pull apart, there's a string of saliva between Jiho's tongue and Kyung's lips. Jiho swipes it from Kyung's mouth with a thumb. Kyung has a stupid grin on his face, so Jiho flicks his cheek, just for good measure.

"I need another smoke," Kyung says. "Coming?" He scoops Jiho off his lap and swings his legs off the bed. 

"Don't know if I can," Jiho says. He collapses back against the sheets once more, stretching out his arms. "I'm shaky. Clothes are too much work." 

"Suit yourself." Kyung gives his thigh a gentle slap.

In the time he's gone, Jiho is finally able to catch his breath. He closes his eyes and holds the picture of Kyung's face, inches from his own, in his mind. His cheeks red and blotchy with a messy blush. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. His eyes half closed. His teeth sinking in to his lower lip. Jiho keeps it in his mind, memorizes it, storing it away for later, for some future night when they can't be together, and all he has are his own hands and Kyung's voice over the phone.

Once he's confident in the memory, he pushes himself into a sitting position and grabs the wine bottle to glance into it. Empty, as he thought. Probably for the best. He doesn't want to forget the way he can still feel Kyung's teeth in his shoulder, in his thigh.

Kyung glides back into the room, bringing a cloud of sour smoke with him. He's wearing only a pair of black briefs, the band loose around his skinny hips. Jiho gawks. 

"You went out in that?"

"No one's looking up my balcony, Ji," he drawls. He runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it up. "God… it's stuffy in here." He brushes by Jiho and opens the window by the bed, just a crack. An icy breeze washes in. Jiho groans loudly and crawls back under the covers.

"Don't be a brat," Kyung says. "It can't smell like jizz in here forever." He twirls around on the heel of one foot. "Food or bath first?"

"Food," Jiho says, and then, changing his mind, "bath."

"Yeah, that's what I just said."

Kyung reaches down and peels the sheets from Jiho's shoulders. He has to unhook each of Jiho's fingers one by one. Jiho presses his face to Kyung's belly and whines a bit more for no reason in particular.

"Come on," Kyung says. "You know I can't carry you."

"Bulk up," Jiho says into his tummy.

"I don't like working out any more than you do," Kyung says. "Get up, asshole." 

Jiho wants to say something like, "I'd rather get up your asshole," but decides against it. Instead he lets Kyung help him to his feet. He's wildly unsteady, but with a moment's clinging to Kyung's shoulders, he rights himself once more.

"Bath time," Kyung says. "I'll order takeout after."

"Chicken," Jiho says. "I don't care what. It has to have chicken."

He can almost hear the vehemence with which Kyung roll his eyes. "Whatever you want, baby."

Jiho closes the bathroom door behind them, once they’re inside. Kyung likes to keep the door closed, to trap in the steam - he turns it into a sauna. Today, the white marble sink counter is cluttered with bottles of conditioner, combs and brushes, his entire skin care routine, and other things Jiho can’t name. It’s chaos.

“You didn’t bother cleaning the bathroom for me,” Jiho says, with a giggle.

“Oh, stop it.” Kyung says. “You’ve seen it worse.” He twists the faucet and water begins to flow with a familiar, comforting hush. Kyung takes Jiho’s hand and helps him into the tub.

“Now stand there a moment,” Kyung says, “I’ll give you a quick rinse.”

Jiho stands stiff as a board, his arms at his sides, as Kyung unhooks the shower head and sprays down his chest with water so hot it makes him flinch at first, washing the last of the cake down the drain. Then Kyung bends over and plugs the tub.

“It’s hot,” Jiho says as he lowers himself into the water.

“Good,” Kyung says. “Needs to be, for your muscles to relax.” He sheds his briefs once more, then turns round and Jiho gets a perfect view of his bony little ass when he begins to rummage in the cupboard under the sink.

“You’ve been waxing, though,” Jiho says.

“A man’s gotta take care of himself.”

“Wanna eat you out sometime,” Jiho hums, as the water laps around his belly. “Bet you’re all smooth. Bet you taste good.”

Kyung’s shoulder blades stick out and Jiho watches a shudder crawl down his back. “Fuck. You'll give me another boner.” He straightens up, turns around, and Jiho crosses his arms on the side of the tub and rests his chin on his hands to watch. Kyung’s holding his tube of bath bombs. “Lavender or rose?”

“Rose,” Jiho says, and when Kyung returns, Jiho stares at the intricate little flowers carved into yellow and crimson. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it?”

Kyung steps daintily in between Jiho’s legs and settles himself down in his lap. His back is cold when pressed against Jiho’s chest. Jiho cups his hand around the bath bomb and watches as color spreads out into the water, deep pink ripples licking at Kyung’s knees.

Kyung sticks out a pale, slender leg and twists the knob with his foot, shutting off the water.

Jiho puts his arms around Kyung’s waist and pulls him back against his chest. Heat billows up in clouds around their heads, and with it the heady, intoxicating scent of rose, calming and familiar. Kyung strokes his thighs, his calves. Jiho closes his eyes.

When some of the water evaporates, and they can move without sloshing, Kyung guides him around and puts his hands against Jiho’s back. He begins gliding his palms up Jiho’s skin, from his waist to his shoulders, pressing his thumbs into muscles at the juncture of his shoulders and neck, rubbing in slow, deep circles before running his fingers back down. He follows the touches with his lips.

This time, when Jiho moans, it’s from the pit of his belly. He’s giddy. His chest feels so full, it’s a wonder he doesn’t cry.

“I love you,” he says into the near-silence.

Kyung kisses his spine, between his shoulder blades. “I love you too, baby. Happy birthday.”

The End


End file.
